


Paradise Returned

by pearl_scribbles



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, M/M, Porn with Feelings, the holy trinity of patrochilles imo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:40:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28823109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearl_scribbles/pseuds/pearl_scribbles
Summary: Achilles finally returns to Patroclus, and Elysium starts to feel like the paradise it was meant to be.
Relationships: Achilles/Patroclus, Achilles/Patroclus (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 159





	Paradise Returned

Achilles had served at Lord Hades’ home for so long, he’d almost forgotten what it felt like to travel between the realms of the underworld. Almost forgotten, but not quite. He still remembered how disorienting it could be, and if he hadn’t been so ecstatic to leave, he might’ve been dismayed at that memory proving correct. He was staring at the smiling face of Zagreus when a bright light suddenly took over his vision. He blinked instinctively, and when his eyes opened once more, he was greeted by a beautiful scene: pink butterflies fluttered past him to feed at the flowers or dance between the droplets flying from the waterfalls. The grass was impossibly plush beneath his sandalled feet. The draped branches of a willow brushed his shoulders. And in front of him...in front of him…

“Achilles?” 

...in front of him was the most breathtaking sight of all: Patroclus. His dark skin glowed in the ethereal light of Elysium, and the laurels in his hair made a lovely contrast to the black curls they sat upon. And yet, for all the perfect health that paradise gave him, he still looked exhausted. Dark circles framed darker eyes, and his frown lines were somehow deeper than they had ever looked in life. 

Yet he was still Patroclus. Undeniably, irrefutably his Patroclus. 

A part of Achilles’ mind advised caution. When they had last met in life, he had sent his love into battle and, unwittingly, to death’s arms. His stubbornness caused Patroclus’s death, and his rage, though it had written his name into eternal myth, had gone against everything Patroclus loved in him. 

But Achilles wasn’t known for his caution. As if by instinct, his legs carried him to Patroclus, who slowly stood to meet him. And as Patroclus stood, Achilles fell, his knees landing on soft grass whilst he held his love’s hand for the first time since life. “I’m sorry, my love. I should have listened to you. You were right, of course you were right. So many Greek lives could have been spared had I listened to you. I was content to spend the rest of eternity without my heart to pay for my hubris, and if...if you do not wish to see me, then I’ll go back. I’ll go back, and you’ll never see me again. I do not ask for forgiveness. I am not worthy of it. But if you let me stay, I promise I will spend the rest of eternity showing you the love and devotion that I have held within me all this time.” 

“Stand up.” 

“...I’m sorry?” 

“Stand up, Achilles.” 

He obeyed, rising to his feet until he could gaze into wide, dark brown eyes. Patroclus let his hand be held, and his free hand came up to brush away blonde waves. His eyes danced across Achilles’ face, as though he were just as desperate to soak in every detail of his face. And then he spoke, his low, unhurried tones sending a flush of longing through Achilles. “I tried to be angry with you, Achilles, and I succeeded for a while. But when the anger was gone, there was just the pain of loving you and missing you, a pain not even the Lethe could soothe. We’ve much to talk about, Achilles, and I will say my piece then. But for now...kiss me.” 

Bringing their lips together felt as though his gravity was brought back to center. It was as natural as anything, and with each brush of their lips, Achilles felt as though he were being pieced back together for the first time in...he didn’t know how long. Too long. His hands were greedy, running through those dark curls, scratching through Patroclus’s beard, and relearning the lines of his body. He didn’t even think of where his hands were wandering until he heard a choked, “Ah, Achilles…”

“Patroclus,” he sighed back, kissing down his neck, “I want you, Patroclus.” 

“Your post—”

“I have time. I’ll make time.” He pulled away to look Patroclus in the eye, uncertainty suddenly looming at the edge of his mind. “Do you want me?” 

A rough laugh of disbelief escaped Patroclus. “Want you? I’m past wanting. I need you, Achilles. More than water, more than air.” 

“You have me.” 

It was all he needed to say. Patroclus’s lips were back on his, tongue immediately dipping into his mouth as though they had never parted. Disbelief and delight nearly made Achilles lightheaded, his hands uncharacteristically clumsy as he tugged at the cloth folded around Patroclus. 

His hands may have been clumsy, but they still achieved their goal, baring the men’s bodies to each other and letting Achilles press every inch of his skin to Patroclus as they tumbled to the plush Elysian grass. The feeling of his beloved after countless years proved too much for his battle-honed senses, or perhaps Patroclus had spent his years alone training, for Achilles found himself pinned to the ground in the midst of his delirious delight. He caught sight of Patroclus’s smiling face, glowing from triumph and excitement, for only a moment, before he felt teeth grazing his neck and a hand gently stroking his cock to full arousal. 

Without Patroclus’s lips covering his, there was nothing to stop moans and gasps from escaping Achilles. He could only hold on as he felt lips move from his neck to his nipples, making him arch off the ground as he felt the strokes on his cock pick up. His pleasure climbed, building quickly in him, too quickly, threatening a premature end, until he finally cried, “Patroclus, wait!” 

The stroking hand and swirling tongue suddenly stopped, and Patroclus looked at him with alarm in his eyes. Achilles couldn’t help laughing weakly, his fingers stroking through those dark curls as he breathed, “Wait, my heart. We have waited too long for this to end so soon.” 

The alarm was replaced with fondness, and Patroclus’s grin was filled with pride. “The best of the Greeks is no match for his lover?” 

“Mm...a weakness that goes both ways, I believe,” Achilles growled softly, promises lining his words and sharpening his smile. Patroclus yielded easily to his pushing hands, letting his body be pressed to the ground and his lips be parted by a coaxing tongue. How had he ever taken these kisses for granted, Achilles wondered. How had he shared a bed with this man without worshipping him as a god? No matter. He would simply worship him now, in his own way.

Achilles’ lips roamed down Patroclus’s body, tasting his skin and feeling his warmth with a giddiness he hadn’t felt since he was just entering his manhood, giving into his desires for the first time. But where before, he had been giddy with the newness of it all, now he basked in the familiarity of it. Hearing sweet gasps and feeling tensed muscles beneath his fingers was better than his memories could ever be, and a moan escaped him when Patroclus choked out his name. The sound made him skip to his prize, Patroclus’s long, curved cock rising towards him like a taut bowstring. 

Achilles wasn’t known for his caution. A soft kiss to the crown was all the warning Patroclus received before he was swallowed whole, making a strangled cry escape him as his hips shot up. But Achilles remembered everything so well, too well, his hands already pinning his hips to the ground as he hummed around his cock. 

It had been far too long since he’d last felt this weight in his mouth, and he relished it, sinking down and opening his throat until his nose was buried in course hair. His world was narrowed down to Patroclus’s pleasure: all he could hear was his gasps and groans, all he could feel and taste was his cock, and all he could smell was the heavy scent of his arousal. Achilles’ own cock ached - he had always found his pleasure in the way Patroclus responded to his work, in the knowledge that only he could drive the best of the Myrmidons mad with desire. 

“Gods, Achilles.” The groan made a smile threaten at his lips, and he focused his efforts further. His hand stroked at Patroclus’s cock as he gently mouthed at his balls, making his lover’s sweet moans echo louder around the chamber. Achilles could feel the bundle at his lips tighten, and the arousal in his hand harden even more, before his head was suddenly pushed away. He stopped his hand’s work as he watched Patroclus, who flashed a breathless, though slightly embarrassed, smile at him. “I’m sorry, I...I wanted us...together…” 

Achilles understood immediately, and trailed kisses in his path to rise over Patroclus, those dark eyes burning into his as he licked his hand and wrapped it around both of their cocks. He smeared his precum over their lengths, mixing it with the wet that still clung to Patroclus. His hand remembered the rhythm Patroclus liked, responding automatically to his gasps and the desire thrumming through his own veins. Strong hands gripped at Achilles’ buttocks, ripping a choked groan from his throat, and he bit at his lover’s lips in response, making them part in a gasp and letting his tongue dip inside. Patroclus’s moans rumbled through their kisses, his desperation outlined in the curve of his back and the press of his hips into Achilles’ hand, urging him to grip harder and stroke faster. Achilles obeyed, chasing both of their pleasure, pulling away from Patroclus’s sweet lips to let his head fall to his shoulder as he felt himself rushing headlong towards the edge of a cliff until...until…

“Achilles!” The cry of his name and the jerk of Patroclus in his hand was all Achilles needed. His vision turned white for a split-second as he finally broke, shuddering with the force of his orgasm. 

His arms shook from his own weight as the tremors of pleasure faded away, and he finally let himself fall on his back next to Patroclus. They said nothing, the pristine silence of Elysium broken only by their gasps for air. If he just stretched his arm, Achilles could cup the waters of the river Lethe in his hand, and he brought the pure water to Patroclus’s dirtied skin. 

He meant to clean him, give himself the excuse to run his fingers along the lines of his body, but an image rose to his mind, unbidden: Patroclus’s body, crusted with dirt and blood, his skin ashen in death. Briseis, eyes bloodshot when Achilles caught her cleaning the body, voice hoarse as she screamed terrible things at him, things he knew he deserved. His own hands, shaking as he tried to clean skin that had been so warm the night before. 

“Achilles.” The soft call brought him back to himself, and green eyes jerked up to meet brown, sad understanding swimming in those dark depths. “Let me.” 

“I—” 

“I know.” And as they stared at each other, Achilles felt a certainty rise in him, as instinctive as the balance of a spear in his hand. He knew. 

Patroclus’s hand was gentle on his, letting him spill the water on their bodies as he moved his hand away. Achilles watched as he worked, his hands cleaning them in a way that brought memories of whispers in the dark and fingers tangled together, not memories of death and grief. He knew Patroclus could feel his eyes on him, just as Patroclus knew he didn’t have to acknowledge it. He simply spoke, and that was all the acknowledgment Achilles needed. “...I’ve drunk these waters. Many times.” 

“Patroclus…?” 

“Before that godling of yours stumbled in here. And a few times after that. The waters never seemed to work. The pain of being separated from you would ebb for a while...but when it returned, it was worse than before. As though all the pain I would’ve felt was being bottled up, just waiting to be released.” 

Their bodies were clean, but Patroclus still let his fingers trail along the lines of Achilles’ body, until his hand rested just over his heart. “I thought it was another cruel trick of the Fates, unable to let me be in peace even in death. But now…now I wonder if it was a rare mercy from them, letting me keep the memories, meet your boy, and let him bring us together once more. ” 

“Mercy in death is the least you deserve, Patroclus,” Achilles murmured. 

“And you? What do you deserve, you beautiful, self-sacrificial fool?” The sight of Patroclus’s smile, small and restrained and intimate, as though he were sharing a secret only the two of them knew, made love and joy swell in Achilles until he thought he might burst. 

“You were all I deserved...all and more. I’m sorry I didn’t understand that in life.” 

“Achilles—” 

“It’s true. Don’t try to tell me it’s not. You were the best of the Myrmidons. You held my heart and molded my soul. You were my mercy and my kindness, my love and my warmth, the best parts of me. And then you were gone, and I...I…” He met those dark eyes again, and his heart sank at the understanding that swam in them once again. “Well...I suppose you know by now.” 

“I do. You are a hero.” But the way Patroclus’s mouth twisted on the word “hero” told Achilles all he needed to know of what he thought of the title. It was his hungering for that title and its glory that had brought them to Troy, away from the chance at a long, peaceful life together. 

“Worthless. All of it,” Achilles insisted, sitting up and gripping at Patroclus’s hands as he spoke. “It meant nothing without you. Even Elysium felt like Tartarus without you.” 

“And yet you left me to that very fate,” Patroclus muttered. His voice, usually so warm and thoughtful, had suddenly taken on the bitter note Achilles had only heard of from Zagreus. 

“Patroclus, I...you were killed by my own folly. It seemed only right that you enjoyed the paradise assigned to me. You fought to save the Greeks. I fought out of rage, out of grief for you.” 

“You felt all that grief...yet you didn’t imagine I would feel any of it for you?” Patroclus’s eyes were unflinching on Achilles, making guilt rise bitter in his throat. “Did you think my love for you was any less devastating, that I would be able to enjoy this shapeless existence without you?” 

“I didn’t...my heart, I didn’t mean—” 

“I know you meant well. Your intentions were noble as ever. But I need you to understand, no prizes, no paradise, no reward will ever be worth anything without you. I am unwhole without you, _philtatos._ We’ve earned plenty of titles and prizes, we’ve faced years of war and loss, and at the end of it all, the only thing I yearn for is the time we lost with each other. Let us make up for that lost time, Achilles, whether it be in these blissful fields or in the darkest depths of Tartarus. No more pacts, no more misguided attempts to protect me. Let us spend eternity together.” 

Achilles couldn’t speak. The shock and love and guilt caused by Patroclus’s words had formed a lump in his throat that threatened his breath and stole his own words. All he could do was kiss him again, mouthing his promises onto Patroclus’s lips as they clung to each other. 

Lost in the warm of Patroclus’s arms and the press of his lips, Achilles had nearly forgotten his empty post...until he suddenly felt a sharp pull at his heart. “Ah! Blood and darkness…” 

“Achilles?” 

“My post...the pact is broken, but my post still needs to be filled,” he groaned, rubbing weakly at his chest. “And Zagreus...he must have returned to the house…” Regret filled him as he met Patroclus’s eyes. “My love, I…”

“Go, check on him,” Patroclus murmured with a soft smile. “And give him my thanks.” 

“The way he’s been tearing through the Underworld, I’m certain you’ll be able to thank him directly before long.” Achilles smiled, but reluctance slowed his hands as he tugged his robes and armor back on. Patroclus managed to dress before him, and helped him slide the last pins and fastens into place. His hands rested on Achilles’ shoulders, and for a moment, they simply stood there, staring into each other’s eyes. “Come back to me,” Patroclus finally whispered, leaning his forehead against Achilles’. “Promise me you’ll return.” 

“I will,” Achilles promised. “I’ll return before you can even miss me.” 

“Impossible.” Patroclus’s smile was bright before he pressed a final kiss to Achilles’ lips. 

They had barely parted before Achilles was gone, the scenery of Elysium quickly replaced by the dark opulence of Hades’ home. And there, right where Patroclus had been standing, was Zagreus, bloodied and weary and smiling eagerly. “Sir! Did you make it to Elysium? Did you see Patroclus? Why are you back? Will you return to him?” 

Achilles had expected to feel some sort of pang at the sound of his love’s name, as he had since he’d first arrived in the Underworld. But instead, he felt a warmth spread through, a warmth that felt strangely like...hope. “Yes, lad. I did see him. And I plan on seeing him again very soon.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have been in shambles over this ancient couple since I read the Song of Achilles in October, I can't BELIEVE it took me this long to finish and post a fic focused on them. 
> 
> This is mainly based on their portrayal in Supergiant's Hades, but I couldn't resist attempting to tie in some of their characterization from TSOA. I am nothing if not weak for Madeline Miller's beautiful prose, and I wrote this in a pitiful attempt to channel even a fraction of the beauty she conveys. 
> 
> Also this is my first time posting gay smut, so please be kind! I tried to make it clear who was doing what, without depending on repeating their names over and over again, to very mixed results. I hope it's at the very least not too confusing 😅 
> 
> Comments and kudos are very, very appreciated!! 
> 
> Find me on Tumblr @pearlsephoni
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Supergiant's Hades, including any of the characters or world-building. Please do not copy and paste any of this work on other websites, nor plagiarize any part of it. Thank you.


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